15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
“The alleged stalker was detained after a dramatic shootout in Dr. Dobrev’s Chicago apartment. Police reports detail how despite Dobrev’s private security being on the ground, Christine Malvern still managed to gain access to the building while it was being evacuated for a small electrical fire. She hid herself in the apartment’s trash chute before openly firing on Dobrev and others inside.”
“Trash chute,” Grayson muttered, glaring at the TV. He was taking Christine’s attack personally, and not just because his brother was still in the hospital.
Investigations were still ongoing, but security footage from outside our building clearly showed a figure with wild brown hair starting a fire near the air conditioning units behind the apartment building. Her distraction worked, and while the firefighters were clearing the building and putting out the flames, she’d snuck in, taking advantage of the stairway doors that automatically unlocked when the fire alarms started up. She’d wedged herself into the trash chute and waited for us to return.
Asher was beside himself that he hadn’t checked it.
“I have to apologize, again, on behalf of—” Grayson started, but me, Malachi, and Sonia all waved him off, interrupting and talking over him. He’d apologized enough for about three lifetimes.
I got the impression RISI was a legit operation, and Grayson ran a tight ship. I could tell it was killing him that Christine had ever gotten close to the apartment to begin with. While Mal didn’t hold Asher or Grayson personally responsible, he’d graciously allowed RISI to install a new state-of-the-art security system in the penthouse. Grayson and another RISI team member, Aiden, were also sticking around for a few more days, providing security to deter anyone else who wanted to harm me, Dr. Do-Right, or his career.
“Investigators in the case quickly reported no evidence that Dr. Dobrev had a romantic relationship with his attacker at any point in the past, leading many to believe her claims of pregnancy were false,” the reporter droned on.
“Oh, you fuckin’ think?” Sonia mocked, handing cups of coffee over to me and Mal. A thick bandage hid the line of stitches running up her arm.
Mal glanced at the Keurig brew, but said nothing as he took a sip. It was progress.
I used to think my and Sonia’s apartment was practically a palace, but I’d gotten used to the space of the penthouse faster than I’d thought was possible. Holing up here while the cleaning crews scrubbed blood and spackled bullet holes kind of felt like camping, now. I missed the massive multi-jet shower. Mal was jonesing for his espresso machine. Siggy was just happy to have everyone in one room, hopping from lap to lap as we sat and watched the morning news.
“Tough stuff there, Chaz,” the local news anchor shook her head, her blown-out bob swaying around her face as she shook her head.
“Absolutely, Sharon. I can’t imagine what the past few days have been like for Dr. Dobrev and his family. Our thoughts and prayers are with them.”
“See, Mom? We have Sharon and Chaz’s thoughts and prayers. We’re going to be just fine,” Mal grinned at where his mother was furiously crocheting in a ratan armchair across the room. Joanne and Richard Dobrev had been on a flight to Chicago the second Mal had called them to tell them about Christine’s attack. They’d been crashing in the guest room slash pilates studio and hovering over us ever since the plane had landed.
I’d met them both several times, but this visit felt different for many reasons. They’d always been lovely to me, sincere and warm. Now, after I’d almost died with their children, they barreled straight into affectionate and doting territory.
I was sure it was because of Christine’s attack, but I was equally sure it had something to do with Malachi telling them we were together. Joanne had given me a hug that had never seemed like it was going to end, while Richard made me a hot toddy and promptly sent me to bed as soon as my mug was empty.
“Well, I’m sure Chaz and Sharon are perfectly nice people, but I still feel like we should be closer.” She glanced up from her yarn, looking at her husband for backup. Richard hummed, stroking his beard.
“I’ve already found a few apartments in the city that could work. Especially when I officially retire next year,” Richard offered, waving his iPad in the air.
Sonia glanced back at Mal. She loved her parents, but having lived so long away from them, she was concerned they’d cramp her style if they moved to Chicago. Mal shrugged, unconcerned. I didn’t help, smiling into my coffee. Maybe the parental hovering would get tiring after a while, but I couldn’t say I hated it. My eyes had nearly bugged out of my head when Joanne had started talking about moving to the city “to be closer to her babies.” I didn’t realize parents did that, just packed up and moved their lives for their kids. I couldn’t imagine it.
“Ma’am?” Aiden stuck his head in from the hallway. Sonia rolled her eyes, sighing.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” She slung her purse over her shoulder. He looked unrepentant as she brushed past him.
“Force of habit. Ma’am.”
We could still hear her berating him after the hallway door closed. It was all in good fun. Since Sonia had barely left Asher’s side since he was shot, she was getting pretty close to the RISI guys. She only came home when hospital visiting hours were over to shower and eat, and for lunch to catch up with her parents.
She’d been quiet for the last two days. Admittedly, all of us had, but she had a new, solemn aura around her that didn’t feel quite right. She kept up her usual joking and inappropriate comments, but they seemed forced, like she was going through the motions instead of living in the moment.
“We’ll support her however she needs. But we’ve all been through a trauma. It’s normal to need some time to recalibrate, or reflect,” Mal had told me, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm when I’d mentioned it to him. I grudgingly agreed, though I was keeping a close eye on both of them, just like I noticed them eyeing me over the last few days.
It still felt so surreal. Sometimes, I could blink and be right back in the hallway, the barrel of a gun pointed in my direction. Sometimes, cuddled on the couch with Mal and Siggy while Joanne worked on a cardigan for me, I felt like I’d made it all up, or it had all been a bad dream.
It didn’t help that Caplan had given me the next two weeks off work to recover. Without my regular schedule and routine to ground me, everything felt off. I was in my apartment, but with Mal—always Mal, right there in touching distance, constantly Mal. Living my life, but with a personal security guard outside my door. I was still the same person I was before all this happened, but I absolutely was not.
“Dr. Dobrev, Miss Sanchez,” Grayson rose, tapping his earpiece. “Just got word the penthouse is ready, if you’d like to go take a look. Make sure it’s up to your standards before they pack up.”
“Oh, I…so soon? That was fast, right?” I asked as Mal stood to put his coffee mug in the sink.
“Our crews work quick,” Grayson shrugged. “We want you back to normal as quickly as possible. It can help, in situations like this.” One more apology gift from the RISI team. Their crew of “fixers” had swept into the penthouse within hours of the shooting and had gotten to work setting everything to rights. “I can escort you, if you’d like.” He nodded to the door, where Mal was already waiting.
“Oh, that’s so gracious! You two go take a look. I’m sure it’s just beautiful,” Joanne cooed. Richard grunted, still scrolling through his real estate app, laser-focused.
I rose, not sure why my feet suddenly had such a hard time moving me across the floor. “Right now?”
Mal froze, head swinging to look at me. “Is that a problem? If you aren’t up for it, Ri, I can go.”
“No!” I scampered across the floor, shoving my feet into the flip-flops by the door. I might have gotten a bizarre pressure in my chest at the thought of going back up to the penthouse, but the thought of him going up there alone made me palpitate. “No,” I repeated more calmly when his eyes narrowed at me. I could feel him sizing me up, therapy vision activated. “Let’s go.”
“Ri, seriously, I can go by myself.”
I pulled him into the hall towards the elevators. Grayson followed a few paces behind. I was going to miss his steady presence hanging around. “No, I want to see. I just…feel…” I trailed off, finger hovering over the button for the penthouse. Malachi stood next to me, hand on the small of my back, patient. I swallowed. “It’s just a lot,” I whispered, blinking away a few tears that fogged up my vision.
Mal nodded, stepping closer, like he knew I needed more support right now. “It is a lot. It’s hard to move on when something like this happens. What are you feeling? Right this second?”
Oh, great. Now he was validating my feelings and asking me to name my emotions. I flopped my head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. “I have my own therapist, you know.” And Dr. Peterson had been a lifesaver, booking an emergency appointment and scheduling sessions every day for the next week.
“Humor me, Kitten,” Mal pressed a kiss to the top of my head, seemingly unbothered by how we were standing in the elevator with security personnel and not going anywhere. My hand dropped away from the button panel.
“I feel scared. What if being back up there makes everything come rushing back?” I whispered, looking at our reflection in the mirrored doors as they slid shut. Thankfully, no one called the elevator. We were frozen in place on my floor.
“I’m scared, too. What happened the last time we were inside those walls was horrifying. I’m terrified to relive it.”
I blew out a breath. His confession made me feel a little less manic, like I wasn’t totally in this alone. “And I’m sad. I loved that penthouse, and I’m worried now that it’s ruined.”
He grunted, pulling me closer into his chest, resting his chin on my head. “I loved it, too. I understand your concern. It might be hard to live there, after all this has happened.”
We hadn’t talked yet about what we would do. Part of me wanted to break my lease, run to the other side of town, and never look at this building ever again. Another part of me wanted to kick and scream at the idea. This place, that penthouse, was the first place I’d really called home for a long time. We’d only had a week there, but it had felt like we’d lived our whole lives in those walls. Being together, making coffee, ordering curtains…it already felt like a crucial part of my life with Mal.
“I’m angry,” I whispered, tilting my head to look up at him. “I’m so pissed that she violated our space. That place was… is special. I hate that she might have taken it away from us.”
“I know.” Mal’s jaw clenched. I saw the same heartbreaking mixture of grief, guilt, and rage that had haunted his face for the last two days. “I feel the same. I hate that this happened to us. To you.” He hauled me closer, circling his arms around me and pressing soft kisses to my face. “The only thing we can do is try. One step at a time. For now, let’s go look and see if a fresh start feels possible.”
“I want a fresh start,” I muttered into his chest. His fingers stroked through my hair.
“I want that, too,” he sighed. “If it’s a no, it’s a no. I can break the lease today and have us in a new place by next week. Hell, my dad probably qualifies as a Chicago real estate expert by now.”
I snorted, giving him one last squeeze before letting him go. “He has been very focused, these last few days.”
“Eh, gives him something to take his mind off everything. He hides it well, but he’s freaked out.”
“Join the club, Richard,” I murmured, looking up at Mal. He winced, and I knew he was thinking about apologizing again. He and Grayson had to cut that out. “Nope, stop that. I don’t wanna hear it,” I spoke over him before he had a chance to open his mouth, leaning over to key in the new security code for the penthouse. “Save that guilt for your own therapist. We’re not blaming ourselves for her attacking us.”
“Fair. Thank you.” Mal leaned against the back wall of the elevator as we whooshed upwards. I eyed him once more in the shiny metal doors. In the other corner, Grayson leaned quietly, staring unobtrusively ahead.
“Sorry. I just needed a minute there. You probably think I’m ridiculous,” I told him, watching his eyes find mine in our reflection. A smile softened his mouth from its usual hard line.
“Not at all. I was thinking how easy you two make it look. Must be nice to have someone who understands you so well.”
“It is,” I said simply, reaching back to where I knew Mal’s hand would meet mine. My other half. My Malachi. “Do you have anyone like that in your life, Grayson?”
His brow furrowed, gaze suddenly far away as the elevator dinged and the doors rolled open. “No, ma’am. Not…right now.”
It was bizarre, walking back into the penthouse. We’d only been gone for two days, and it seemed like forever. Everything was exactly the same, but it all felt different. Like a very real simulation that felt all too surreal. The smell of lemon cleaning products and fresh paint hung in the air. The crew hadn’t just fixed the hallway, they’d scrubbed the whole place, top to bottom. As I passed by, I ran my fingers over a cashmere throw they’d meticulously folded over the back of the sectional.
Mal paced me as I moved through the space, my steps slowing the further I got. Any second now, I’d look down on the kitchen floor and see the blood stain where Asher had passed out after getting shot, before he’d roused himself to save us. I gulped, steeling myself as I rounded the island.
There was nothing there. The tiles were shiny, grout scrubbed clean. I stared, feeling a little crazy. My brain was telling me that a massive pool of blood should be right there, where I’d seen it last, even though logically I knew it would be gone.
“Ri,” Malachi held his hand out from where he stood at the entry to the hallway. To the hallway. I took his hand and let him pull me in. It was pristine. New paint, scrubbed floors. It looked better than the day Mal had moved in. The fumes felt like they were choking me. I ran my fingers across the wall, the paint dry, but still vaguely tacky beneath my fingers. No one would ever know there was a bullet lodged in the stud here. No one but us.
Mal kept hold of my hand. When I looked around again, it was like I had those blue-and-red 3D glasses on. I could see the blood. The bullet holes. And then I couldn’t. They’d removed the coverings from the windows. Beyond our patio, Chicago bustled along like usual.
“We’ve made a few upgrades, too,” Grayson murmured quietly, like he was hesitant to disturb our silent inspection. He showed us the new trash chute door he’d personally installed, with a metal plate welded to the back to stop anyone from shimmying down it again.
“Industrial grade, stainless steel frames and screws. No one’s getting in the vents, either.” He pointed. I didn’t see anything different about the vents, but I believed him. He showed us the new alarm system, upgraded door, and window locks. “What do you think?”
He looked between Mal and I. I couldn’t hold his gaze. I loved the penthouse more than I could say. They’d done a perfect job, truly incredible. But my chest hurt. Could I really keep living here, in a space that had been so utterly violated? Would I be able to move on, knowing every time I passed that spot in the hallway, the sound of a gun going off would probably ring in my ears?
“Kitten?” Mal looped his arm around my waist. “What do you think? Go or stay?”
“I’m…not sure. What do you think?”
He shrugged, looking around. “I think this feels like home to me. But I’m worried it’s a little haunted.”
I laughed despite the weirdness fluttering around in my stomach. That was one way to put it, yeah. Haunted .
“There was a delivery while you were away,” Grayson pointed across the living room to a corner I hadn’t looked at yet. All my attention was on the hallway. “The team didn’t know where you planned to put it, so we left it there. I checked it out. It’s clean.”
“Not for long,” Malachi whispered, grinning down at me.
The sight of the apothecary cabinet surprised another laugh out of me. I covered my mouth with my hand. After everything that had happened, my vibrator drawers were the only thing out of place.
“It really is a beautiful piece of furniture,” I told Mal, walking over to run my fingers over the smooth, worn wood. The glass knobs twinkled in the sunlight. His hand joined mine, smoothing down the top, opening one of the drawers to peek inside. It was perfect. We both stood and looked at it for a beat, Grayson’s big, patient presence behind us.
“We should move it,” Mal said suddenly, nodding to himself. “To the bedroom, like we planned.”
“You think?” My eyes ran over the piece of furniture, remembering that night in bed when he’d picked it out, when everything had seemed so bright and hopeful, like the start of something beautiful. My eyes flickered to the other side of the apartment, to the second guest room and the office we’d never fully unpacked. I wondered if the cleaners had gotten over there. I still hadn’t decided how I wanted to hang Mal’s diplomas. I abruptly worried that they’d gotten to it first and hung them without me.
“Yeah, let’s do it.” I looked up at Mal, the tiniest of smiles tugging at my lips.
The cabinet was beautiful and fucking heavy. Mal and I struggled with it for about five minutes, taking care not to scratch the floors, before Grayson decided he’d had enough and joined the fray.
I got the impression he probably could have picked up the whole thing and moved it by himself, but he humored us by letting us awkwardly fumble for handholds on the smooth surface. Navigating the hallway with three people trying to steer the massive piece of furniture was ridiculous. We stumbled into the walls more times than I could count, but finally, we set the piece down in between the two master closets. It fit perfectly.
“That’s nice,” Grayson commented after he’d patiently adjusted it according to my directions. An inch to the left, no, an inch over, not that way, the other way. “Drawers are small, though. What’s it for?”
“Uh,” I hesitated while Mal snickered behind me. “You know, this and that. Bits and bobs.”
“ Bobs ,” Mal hissed, trying to contain his laughter. Grayson eyed him with narrowed eyes. He knew he was missing something, but was polite enough not to pry.
I admired the drawers one last time before heading back out to the hall. As ridiculous a purpose as they served, I couldn’t help the swelling in my heart when I looked at them. After everything Mal and I had been through, we were here. Our little secrets, our growing relationship, finally had a home.
I paused in the hall, my eyes drawn to the place I knew there was still a bullet buried deep behind the drywall. Bizarrely, we’d managed to scrape against the drying paint in almost the exact same spot. A smudge of brown from the cabinet’s varnish marred the expanse of smooth, flat spackle and paint. I reached out to stroke the scratch, heart filling.
“What do you think, Kitten?” Mal watched as I felt up the wall. “I go where you go.”
“Let’s stay,” I decided right then and there. I loved that little scratch more than words could describe. A reminder of our bumbling trip down the hall. Sunlight streamed through the windows, warming my back. “I want to make new memories here. Chase out the old. It won’t be haunted forever, right?”
He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. His lips brushed against mine. We stood in the hallway, next to that shallow little scratch, and I knew I’d remember this kiss, this moment, forever.